THIS WILD RIDE SHOULD BE DOOLEY NOTED

Francis Gercke—both the playwright and Backyard Renaissance Theatre Company‘s artistic director—welcomed the audience prior to the matinee. During his greeting, he remarked, “If at various points in the play you find yourself thinking, ‘I’m not sure I’m entirely following this,’ don’t worry. You’re exactly where you’re supposed to be.” A valid statement indeed—and one I found comforting more than once during The Dark Heart of Dooley Stevens—an unorthodox yet thoroughly compelling tale.

Scenic designer Mathys Herbert has transformed Tenth Avenue’s small stage into a cross-section of a battered trailer, complete with wheels underneath and beer cans scattered out front. Though the playbill places the story in the mid-1990s, Herbert’s terrific design makes it clear that this old junker has been sitting in that spot for decades.

The lights come up on Cindy (Jessica John), who is either in crisis, deeply paranoid, or both. When someone bangs on the trailer door, she fires a gun through the open window without even checking who it is. A voice calls back in response to the gunfire, and Cindy realizes—perhaps with only slightly less dread than before—that it’s her ex-boyfriend, Dooley (MJ Sieber), the father of their unseen daughter, Molly.

Dooley has somehow tracked her down to this supposedly untraceable location, a fact that only fuels Cindy’s confusion and tension. He’s come to convince her to return home for Molly’s sake. What follows is an intense, emotionally charged showdown between two deeply broken people, struggling to untangle their past, their feelings, and their intentions.

But calling it a simple drama would be misleading—it’s anything but that. Mr. Gercke dives headfirst into delightfully twisted surrealism, forcing us to question what’s real within the characters’ fractured reality. Is the unplugged TV that occasionally flickers to life a genuine phenomenon, a figment of paranoia, or just wishful thinking manifesting itself? The lines blur, and it’s up to the audience to decide.

If someone had told me this was a lost, two-hour episode of The Twilight Zone directed by the late David Lynch, I wouldn’t have doubted it—well, maybe the part about Lynch working in an intimate San Diego theater, but otherwise, the comparison holds.

Accordingly—despite its fascinating script and two outstanding performances—the surreal content may not be for everyone. However, for those open to something offbeat and otherworldly, it’s undeniably impressive. Ms. John (who was so compelling in Proof) crafts such an emotionally defensive Cindy that we constantly wonder if anything Dooley says or does can break through her walls. Mr. Sieber (a masterclass in character variety in Cygnet’s The Little Fellow) takes Dooley through so many twists and turns that we’re always re-evaluating how we view him. The banter between these two has an almost Waiting for Godot-like quality—two characters trapped by circumstance. Yet Mr. Gercke’s fast-paced dialogue never lets up, generating far more excitement under Hannah Meade‘s direction than Godot ever could.

Chances are, you’ll leave still trying to piece together parts of it, with plenty of material for post-show discussion. In a follow-up conversation, Mr. Gercke acknowledges that some elements are intentionally left open to audience interpretation. However, there are a few moments he feels often go unnoticed. Specifically, the very ending can be tricky to follow. While I’m loathe to spoil anything, it’s worth noting that paying close attention to Dooley’s phone conversation about wishing on stars in Act II will illuminate the final scene—along with thinking through the sequence of sound effects in the final moments.

In the end, this show is as much about the journey as the destination—leave your expectations at the door and embrace the unsettling, surreal ride. If you’re open to some dark mystery and magic, The Dark Heart of Dooley Stevens won’t disappoint.

photos by Daren Scott

The Dark Heart of Dooley Stevens
Backyard Renaissance Theatre Company
Tenth Avenue Arts Center, 930 Tenth Ave. in San Diego
Tues at 7 (March 4); Thurs-Sat at 7:30; Sun at 3
ends on March 15, 2025
for tickets, call 619-337-1525 or visit Backyard Renaissance